#tvgood omens
“Goodnight, angel.”
Crowley hung up the phone and slid off the desk he had been sitting on. A nap it was, then. He pointedly ignored the part of him that was severely disappointed at Aziraphale’s rejection as he strode into the bedroom. As much as they might be “on their own side” now, 6000 years of having to be cautious about each and every one of their interactions couldn’t be undone overnight.
Over the millennia they had known each other, Aziraphale almost never accepted Crowley’s invitations outright. It’s just how they did things– Crowley would persuade, and Aziraphale would eventually, begrudgingly accept. (The unspoken truth of this, of course, was that Aziraphale was never truly begrudging, and Crowley never had to do all that much persuading.)
Crowley paused, his fingers halfway to a snap that would change his clothes to pajamas. Perhaps that was just it. Maybe all Aziraphale needed was a little persuasion. More than that, maybe he expected Crowley to convince him…
Crowley was back at the phone and redialing the bookshop far quicker than he’d be willing to admit.
“I’m so sorry, I’m afraid we’re quite definitely closed at the moment–”
“Angel, it’s me.”
“Oh, Crowley! Hello, my dear. Is everything alright? I thought you were taking a nap?”
“I still might,” Crowley said, trying to maintain some air of nonchalance. “It’s just– well– I was thinking– you wouldn’t be breaking the rules, is the thing.”
